Pic-Apart Celebrates April With Robert Frost
Welcome to the April 2012 edition of Pic-Apart Poetry.
Such a lot of fun we have sharing and creating with 25 words each month.
It’s difficult to believe that spring has been in full swing
for already a month and that May is just around the corner.
And April has given us much to celebrate.
This month in honor of National Poetry Month
and Earth Day
we feature an American poet who celebrates both the earth and poetry
in such an eloquent way.
Robert Frost is certainly a poetic treasure.
Of Poets and Poetry, he has said:
a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”
“A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.”
“A poet never takes notes.
You never take notes in a love affair.”
“Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.”
“Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.”
“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”
“Poetry is when an emotion has found
its thought and the thought has found words.”
“Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.”
And his poetry exemplifies what poetry is and what poets do:
SPRING POOLS
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods —
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday.
Robert Frost (1923)
**********
A CONSIDERABLE SPECK
(Microscopic)
A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt–
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn’t want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.
I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.
Robert Frost
(first published in “The Atlantic Monthly” July, 1939)
Please select your 25 words
from these pieces and create a new piece
(or two or three) of your own using only those 25 words.
Remember though that those 25 words may be
repeated and tenses changed
so you are not limited to a 25-word piece.
And, most importantly, HAVE FUN . . . . we love whatever you bring to share.
Again we would love to feature each one of our CPC Pals here on Pic-Apart.
Please just send a piece or two and a bit about yourself
that you would be willing to share with us
and we’ll take care of the rest.
We look forward to what you bring to share with us tonight
and throughout tomorrow as Pic-Apart Poetry celebrates April with Robert Frost.
Welcome to Pic-Apart Poetry as we celebrate April with a bit of Robert Frost and what we bring back to share with one another. We look forward to spending this time together. Good evening to Cherie and to all our Pals.
FLOWER POWER
Without defect chill and shiver
Brook or river total sky
Flowers beside them soon be gone
Think twice their powers
Still reflect
By roots to bring dark foliage
Written By: Bettie Davis ———————- © April 24 , 2o12
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wellll……that took a while…first time on photobucket since the change…..have a great evening everyone…..will check in tomorrow….my pillow is calling… 🙂
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WITH THE SPRING
Lost in emotion,
these words falter
and hesitate,
beginning and
and ending,
finding a voice
and written
across life’s pages
like flowers opening up
as the snow melts away.
(c) barbara kausteklis 4-24-12
Off to dreamland for me. Looking forward to tomorrow and I’ll be back here with my cup of coffee bright and early in the morning(remembering the three-hour time difference between PT and ET). Thanks so much for sharing tonight and rest well. :love: :love: :love:
Fine, uplifting choice of poet and poetry Barbara and Cherie!
Computer issues have slowed and then curtailed my online activity today, especially when anything visual is involved. But here’s my PAP raw, hopefully tomorrow I can PnP it properly.
Jefferson Resurrected 2012
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept
I have a mind myself,
And recognize intelligence.
Greetings and Good Morning from not-so-sunny California as April Showers are going to be catching up with us big-time today. I’m looking forward to spending the day with you right here. All such wonderful Pic-Aparts posted. Always exciting. Big Hugs and Coffeetime Cheers on this beautiful Wednesday morning.
Well Photobucket has a new editing package, and I haven’t figured it out.
It’s hard to read, so here’s the plain text:
Winter’s Pool
Clear skies from chilly waters drink,
melted snow from every river’s brink:
a fresh repast from colder, darker days
ablaze with barren winter’s rays,
which scalded with ice and burned with frost
‘til every speck of life seemed lost.
From winter’s pool came pouring showers,
deep, where a sleeping seedling cowers,
awaking hope, in hopes to flower,
reborn to life’s confluent power.
Mind this well when love seems spent,
consumed by a world with foul intent:
in truth there are no evil accords,
only the goodness which faith affords;
when life’s at its winter, harsh and cruel,
you need only drink from winter’s pool.
© Ted Meredith, April 2012
A paper sheet so white.
My pen in the air.
Words written seem unfair.
I do not dare tread.
For it creeps and crawls in my head
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A REFLECTIVE MOMENT
A chill in the air,
I pause a moment to reflect
on the yesterdays of my life
as I see them reflected
in the rivers and forests,
where again I go in my mind
to find the self that is me.
And sometimes lost from sight,
Nature sweeps them away
as blotting them out,
I leave some
of those days behind.
(c) barbara kausteklis 4-25-12
All such beautiful pieces posted — each one touches my heart. I’ll be back in just a little bit. Big Hugs and Cheers . . . .
The Blog is amazing You two I always Look forward to You and Cherie Barbara always poetry Month is in My heart! This month means much!
I did the one Robert Frost “Considerable Speck” and had so much fun pardon my photobucket in-experience-I am new at the new-editing with them ok.. giggles :love: :love: :love:
JUST A SPECK OF LOVE
It seemed too tiny
A speck that would have been
But unmistakably a living mite
Plainly with an intelligence
To express how much it didnt want to die
Written By: Bettie Davis ———————— © April 24 , 2o12
Barbara and Cherie this is For Robert Frost “Spring PoolS”
Love the reads you all have so much slayed today love it killer awesome!!!!! love you guys :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: watch the video cause this one rules!!!
:love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love: :love:
And it’s absolutely gorgeous! Thanks so much for the beauty you share with us today. Such beautiful poetry and presentation and images. :love: :love:
Robert Frost was one of my favorites , He had words so beautiful from a yearly age to his final days.This is one of my favorite poems he wrote He love the out doors alot.Born March 26, 1874, San Francisco, Calif., U.S.died Jan. 29, 1963, Boston, Mass.) U.S. poet. Frost’s family moved to New England early in his life. After stints at Dartmouth College and Harvard University and a difficult period as a teacher and farmer, he moved to England and published his first collections, A Boy’s Will (1913) and North of Boston (1914). At the outbreak of war he returned to New England. He closely observed rural life and in his poetry endowed it with universal, even metaphysical, meaning, using colloquial language, familiar rhythms, and common symbols to express both its pastoral ideals and its dark complexities. His collections include New Hampshire (1923, Pulitzer Prize), Collected Poems (1930, Pulitzer Prize), A Further Range (1936, Pulitzer Prize), and A Witness Tree (1942, Pulitzer Prize). He was unique among American poets of the 20th century in simultaneously achieving wide popularity and deep critical admiration. Many of his poems, including Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Birches, The Death of the Hired Man, Dust of Snow, Fire and Ice, and Home Burial, are widely anthologized.
Thanks so much to everyone who joined us today to celebrate April with Robert Frost. Pic-Apart has been such a lot of fun for such a long time and it’s a joy to be here with you each month in this way. Absolutely beautiful pieces created and such wonderful sharing of information and love. Thanks to Cherie and to All. Please don’t let the hour or the day keep you from sharing more. I’ll be checking back later on.